


Coming of Age

by TaxicabKanefessions



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Ancient Egypt AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-14 07:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4555266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaxicabKanefessions/pseuds/TaxicabKanefessions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Relationships change as time goes by, even if the outcome was inevitable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. -1

Despite the wind outside that whistled at the entrance, the air inside the tomb was stagnant. It caught in the priest's throat as he forced his way through the seemingly never-ending mouth opening ceremony.

If only to block out the people around him, Kahmun focused very closely on the calf's leg that was to be offered to the sarcophagus' painted mouth. In particular, he did his best to block out the feel of his father’s hand on his shoulder. It was a token of fatherly support that he had never come to expect over the years, and he had to wonder if he would have received it had there weren't so many people to be seen by.

He tried, instead, to remember the taste of the wine shared during the last conversation he’d had with his mother. He listened for the sound of her voice and the feel of the farewell kiss on his cheek. He searched for any indication that she’d been sick, or at least aware that something was off. Try as he might he could find nothing, which only made it more difficult to ignore the hand that kneaded, occasionally, at his shoulder.

Kahmun had been placed into the army in his teens to, in his father’s words, teach him to speak correctly. Whether he’d meant the lisp, or the backtalk which had become a fairly standard part of their relationship, wasn’t clear. He figured it was most likely both, and he didn’t press to find out.

His mother had reminded him that this was actually a very good thing. Egypt needed to expand to feed and house a growing population, and the only place to go was into the land of hostile neighbors. A pharaoh had to be a powerful military leader, with soldiers who were willing to obey and lay down their lives for him. To have the experience in war, to be seen as one of them because he had been one of them, could only be to his advantage when he finally took his place.

So that a member of the royal family wouldn't get himself killed out of inexperience, his first year had been spent as far in the back as possible. It was safe, but hardly interesting or dignified. With training and an insistence on being allowed to fight, he earned enough respect to stop being seen as a liability. The promotion from private up to corporal had been tentative. The promotion up to sergeant had been significantly faster, and allowed him to confidently set his sights as high as they could go.

And then a messenger rode into camp.

The letter had been infuriatingly brief, stating only that his mother had died and the estimated date of the burial. He had two months to return home, and over that time he received no other news. When he came home he was told that she’d taken ill suddenly, and certainly unavoidably. There was nothing worth dwelling on, especially when he had a ceremony to prepare for.

When the major portion of the ceremony was finished, they were sat down to a feast.

Kahmun was sat to the left of his father, and to his father's right sat a woman who he'd never met but was expected to call 'mother' in a few days time. This, of course, was in spite of the fact they were practically the same age and she’d seemed to have no interest at all in speaking to him. Her hostility was most likely a simple matter of how much of a threat she posed. When she eventually had a child, they were near guaranteed to be in a subservient position to him based on birth order alone. At least, that would have been the standard thought.

That child, he had slowly begun to realize, was going to come far sooner than originally expected. The sheer number of times his 'mother' had surreptitiously rubbed her stomach would make no sense unless she already had something inside.

In a few days would be a wedding feast, and the next morning he’d ship back out to war. A woman with her own heirs to think of would move into the spot of the only true advocate for his future position. And he had to wonder, if only for the briefest moment, if he hadn’t been enlisted to be killed off quietly and make way for whoever was coming next.

He wasn’t hungry anymore, in fact he was fairly sure he was going to be ill, but he swallowed his food down out of respect. If nothing else, it’s what his mother would have wanted him to do.

Months later, without any predecessors or wasted words, a messenger rode into camp to tell him that his brother had been born.


	2. 5

It'd taken two long years, but the campaign was finally over. With hostile tribes driven out, and new farmland secured, the parade of conquerors and defenders streamed through Alexandria. And, naturally, the whole ordeal was lead by the chariots.

Ahkmen craned his neck as they passed by to confirm that his brother was indeed among them. And, not only that, but Kahmun still drove the team of chestnut stallions that Ahkmen hadn't been old enough to pet before, but most certainly was now.

He yelled and waved, but Kahmun couldn't hear him over the gathered crowd. And that was fine, really. They'd just have to meet up in the stables.

*****

If the military had taught Kahmun anything, it was that you took care of what took care of you. His horses were washed, watered, and fed before turnout, and then he turned his attention to the tack, all before he himself would bathe and eat. It was a series of jobs that could have been passed to a servant, but he needed to be sure they were done properly. Lazy work could have resulted in a broken leg, a snapped rein, any number of things going wrong in the middle of a battle. And, if it did, he'd certainly be dead rather than enjoying the first real bit of peace he'd had in-

“Kahmun!”

He jolted as he was tackled from behind, and dragged back by arms around his neck. He hacked when he finally pried them off. “You can't just grab someone like that. And aren't you supposed to be with your nanny or something?"

"I got away."

Back to his brother, he rolled his eyes and picked up a fallen bridle. "Of course you did."

“I had to! You were gone forever! And, and!” Ahkmun changed his stance to a scold. “You missed my birthday. You promised you'd be back in time.”

“We were held up by a storm, we couldn't...” When his brother's lip began to wibble, he sighed and hung the tack up on the wall. “What will make up for it?”

The pet he'd originally come from was discarded now that he had a bit of leverage. “I wanna ride your horse!”

“No.”

“Then let me drive the chariot.”

“Absolutely not... Don't start crying, now...” He sighed, and when he found none of his brother's handlers in sight offered, “How about just a ride in the chariot?”

The tears miraculously cleared up. “Okay! Then I can drive?”

Kahmun hadn't been married, yet, his indefinite stint in the army heavily implied that there were no plans in the near future. A few minutes with his brother could do wonders to make him feel better about that. “We'll see.”

Ahkmen was off like a shot towards the field where the current team of horses grazed along the wall. The pair were properly bold in the chaos of battle, but evidently weren't at all capable of handling a five year old that darted and reached for them. Kahmun managed to scoop him up before a hoof cracked against the stone barrier.

“They're tired, they need a break.”

“But you said...!”

“I said I'd take you for a ride, not that we'd use them. Come on, we'll find other ones.”

Ahkmen pouted as the two leery-eyed stallions were allowed to wander deeper into the field. “Okay... But they have to be great horses.”

“They will be.” He quietly ordered a stable hand to prepare a (quite as possible) team. “Help me put things away until then.”

With his reward assured, Ahkmen had worked hard to wash and hang things properly. The amount of effort he'd put in only made his face screw all the more when he ultimately saw that the horses prepared were not the sleek, young war animals he'd been expecting. Instead it was an elderly set with swayed back and coats that, while clearly maintained, hadn't been particularly attractive even in their younger days. “They're awful...”

“Now, now, don't judge them like that,” Kahmun said, in as patient as scold as he could manage. He placed his brother inside the training cart. “They were defending Egypt before you were born. They're experienced.”

He sunk a bit more. “I guess...”

Kahmun took his place at the reins. “Are you ready?”

Ahkmen beamed and gripped at the side of the cart. “Yeah!” All objections were forgotten as they began to pull away from the stable in an ambling trot.

“You're standing where the archer does,” Kahmun explained as he steered them down a trail.

“That's you, right?”

“Mhm. But if an archer can't drive, they're going to be in trouble.”

Ahkman bounced on his heels. “Can you teach me to shoot?”

“The bow's as large as you are.”

He glanced at the weapon strapped to his brothers hip. “Can you teach me the khopesh?”

“No.”

“Spear?”

“No.”

“What about a cudgel?”

“You'll go around hitting things, and I'm going to get in trouble.”

“I would not!” The pout only deepened when it was clear he wouldn't get anywhere. “Nobody ever teaches me anything fun.”

“You'll learn when you're older.”

“Everyone always says that, too, but I'm older now!” He shrunk against the wall of the cart. “And you weren't even here.”

Kahmun sighed. He glanced back to make sure they were far enough from the stables, or anyone else for that matter, so it wouldn't come back to bite him. “Fine. I'll teach you to drive, then.”

Ahkmen's face lit up. “Really? You will?”

Again all the depression was gone, and Kahmun cursed how easy he was to fool. He pulled the horses into the steadiest pace he could manage. “That depends. Are you going to run to father and tell him...?"

"No!"

"You swear?"

"Promise!" He made grabbing motions for the reins.

"And if I tell you to give me the reins, you're going to hand them over immediately?”

“Double promise!”

He gave his brother one last look over before he moved him to the center of the cart. “Alright. Back straight, legs apart and firm.”

Akhmen followed the instructions with as much seriousness as a child could manage, and happily took the reins when they were given over.

Kahmun adjusted the tiny hands over them. “Hold them just like this. You can't let them slip.”

“Right!”

The horses tossed their heads at the rougher pull, but continued along as they'd been trained. Ahkmen managed to resist the urge, though just barely, to snap and pull like he'd seen in demonstrations. The cart was moving along smoothly, and he had to be doing a good job because his brother's hand had begun to relax from its death grip on the front bar.

When Ahkmen took a moment to beam up at his brother, Kahmun offered a hesitant smile back.

“Not too bad,” he said. “But it's about time to go back.”

"Do we have to?" he pleaded. "I only just started..."

“We'll be late for dinner, if we don't." He looked over the horses. "But I'd bet I can get these old guys to really move, if you wanted.” The reins were handed over without hesitation, and Kahmun secured his brother to the front post with his hip as he turned them around. “Ready?”

“Ready!”

With a flick of the rein and a yell, the horses took off in an impression of the charges they'd made in their younger days. Ahkmen had no idea how slow they were actually going, nor did he really care, as he cheered.

Had Kahmun been married at the proper time, his child probably would have been about Ahkman's age. It'd be an heir to the throne that wasn't definitively in question at that point, but certainly wasn't the guarantee it should have been. If his indefinite stint in war continued much longer, he'd certainly have more answers.

For the moment, though, he had more space and fresh-enough horses so he didn't have to pull up for a while. He'd certainly earned a bit of peace after two years. And, until he was forced otherwise, he was going to try to enjoy it as much as his brother was.


	3. 8

"You're going to die."

Ahkman sat up and indignantly wiped the mud off his cheek. "That's not very helpful, you know."

"Fine. Your khopesh is for slashing, not clubbing. If you keep leading and smacking with it, it's going to break. And _then_ you'll die." Kahmun put a hand down to haul his brother back to his feet. "Is that better?"

He grumbled as he took the help, "I guess."

"Then pick your weapon up and let's try again."

"It's a stick," he muttered as he grabbed the training sword.

"Prove you can last 30 seconds with a stick, and maybe you can touch a blade." He slid back into stance. "Not before."

In the three years that Kahmun had been gone, their parents still hadn't seen fit to teach Ahkmen self defense. The idea was arrogant, really, to think that he'd never have to fight his own battle considering how militaristic things had become. This sort of ignorance only being possible because Kahmun so routinely risked life and limb also made the attitude insulting, but he tried to ignore that. His parents tended to think that the army was literally, instead of figuratively, their personal protectors. They didn't know enough, so he was the one who'd have to be realistic about it.

Ahkmen copied the the stance, face screwed with concentration behind his shield.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

The next charge Ahkmen made was far more about the shield, as it should have been, though not nearly enough about the weight of his body. A good start, at least. There was now something to build on, and just maybe he'd do well enough to limp his way out of a real fight. But hopefully they had a long while until then.

A sword fight was a matter of mass, and no matter how much Kahmun held himself back there was no way a child could overpower an adult. Ahkmen fumbled and ended up with a slash to the side.Out of indignity or frustration, he took advantage of an opening and whacked at his brother's ribs as he fell to the ground.

The hit, significantly harder than anything dished out up until then, momentarily knocked the wind out of him. With a real sparring partner, it would have been a cheap shot that would have most definitely lead to a fight. But, from an increasingly sheltered child who would soon enough need to use anything he had to survive, it was refreshing.

Kahmun took a moment to rub his sore side. "Better."

Ahkmen beamed up at him. "Really?"

"Yes, but that's about all we can do for today," He jerked his head back towards the palace. "Come on, we have to get washed up."

"So you think I'll beat you someday, then?" he asked as he stood up.

Kahmun rolled his eyes, and kicked the fallen training sword across the field as he headed back. "Just clean up and let's go."

*****

His latest campaign, what he'd been told would be the real last one as opposed to all of the other last ones before it, had been particularly successful. They'd driven an especially hostile enemy of the state out of fertile lands in plenty of time to begin the planting season. Combined with his being more than of age to take over the throne, Kahmun had been positive this was to be his coronation. The way he'd been bathed and dressed for the evening, and how the main hall was laid out and stuffed with as many dignitaries as possible, had done nothing to dissuade that.

Instead, he'd been positioned off to the side.

What had been set that evening was almost a religious ceremony. His brother was finally being bestowed with a tablet that had been commissioned for his birth. One that was meant to protect him, as well as the rest of Egypt almost as an afterthought. There was more, but Kahmun had tuned out by then. The most important part, that the divine right to rule had been poured into a mold, had already been said.

Shepseheret kept a proud hand on her son's shoulder the entire time. She tugged him though the ceremony, and then into the long line of hand-shaking and pleasantries that was expected of a future ruler. Ahkmen, for his part, smiled and greeted each one. Any chance he had, he shot a look back to where the tablet was hung.

Kahmun wondered for a moment if he had any idea of the power he'd just been given, or if he only saw a shiny new toy. Would he have reacted any differently?

Considering he seemed completely oblivious to the burning rage off to the side, it most likely didn't matter. It was the disgusting level of arrogance that everyone in the palace seemed to have, and for a moment the idea of eliminating it with real blades in the next sparring session flashed in his mind. Kahmun just as quickly dismissed it, it was incredibly petty to blame a child for his parent's ignorance. That didn't mean, though, that he had to sit by and watch.

He stuck to the back and, when the guests were fully distracted, he slipped out of the main hall. If anyone asked, he would say that he needed to get up early to ship out. Nobody did ask, though, nor did he really expect them to. They had his brother to attend to, after all.


	4. 12 (Part 1)

“Do you want to see a trick?”

Over the last campaign Kahmun had become an old man, with joints that creaked and pains of varying intensity which simply wouldn’t leave. All he could think about since he’d made it home was how his personal chamber was always refreshingly cool, even in the summer, and how the first real bed he’d seen in 4 years called out to him.

Unfortunately, his brother had found him first. Since it was far too late at night for his brother to have come with an escort, even one he’d abandoned, he must have snuck out. Kahmun had to wonder if Ahkmen had found all the tricks and passages he’d discovered at that age, much less the ones he’d created. He wasn’t about to ask, though, for fear of follow up questions.

Instead, he held back a sigh as he gave up all hope of getting to sleep soon. “Sure.”

Ahkmen grinned. “Come on, this way.”

The ‘trick’ required them to sneak back into the palace, past the main halls and more public areas and into a space which was meant to be for quiet reflection. Somewhere in those four years they’d acquired a giant slab of basalt, intricately carved and polished until it gleamed, that was designed to hold the golden tablet. It hung, silently illuminated by the moonlight that shone through newly-cut hole in the ceiling. If Kahmun didn’t know better, he would swear that it glowed.

“They’ve been teaching me to use it,” Ahkmen explained. “It’s pretty tricky.”

“I can imagine…” He said, absently, as he ran a hand over the hieroglyphics carved into the basalt. “What is all this…?”

“It’s a gate, the priests said it’s yours.”

“Funny they never told me about it.”

“I think it’s a surprise… I don’t know, but it’s pretty new.” He busied himself with pulling a step to the stone so that he could reach the tablet. “The tablet can do a lot of stuff on its own, but with the gate it’s a lot more powerful.” He tapped at the tiles in the center. “A lot of what I’m learning isn’t very exciting, but this is my favorite.”

Ahkmen climbed down and got himself into position. With closed his eyes, he began to recite a chant with as much seriousness as a 12 year old could muster. Somewhere around the halfway mark there was a jolt down their spines, and as the incantation drew to a close the gate began to quiver. Kahmun leaned forward to get a better look as the center panel began to slowly creak open. Behind or inside it (however this worked) was a wall of grey, billowing clouds, and a scorching wind which rushed into the hall. As it opened more a dark figure appeared, almost human but not quite. Behind that one were even more, seemingly multiplying as they drew closer.

Cold sweat had begun to form as Kahmun took a look, as quickly as he dared, from the creature to his brother. The boy was frozen, face a mix of excitement and nerves, but Kahmun wasn’t about to sit any longer. He rushed over to the gate and, with all his strength, pushed the door shut again.

He panted and leaned heavily against the cooling stone, suddenly the loudest thing in the room once the sound of wind vanished. As he closed his eyes in relief that they were safe again, he heard a tsk from his brother.

“Why’d you have to do that?” he asked, irritably. “They were almost here.”

“Are you insane?” Kahmun snapped. “Do you even have a clue what you were trying to bring?”

“They're the protectors of Egypt,” Ahkmen explained, face and voice set like a scolding parent. He headed towards the stone to start over again. “You were there when they told me, remember?”

Kahmun refused to budge, and if anything pushed harder against the gate. “They say things like that will come around all the time, and at most we get an outcome we have to make. How was I supposed to know you’d actually be summoning demons?"

“They aren’t demons, they're a gift!” He yanked at Kahmun’s tunic to get him out of the way. “They’re soldiers sent by the Gods themselves, and we only have ‘til sunup, so let me…!”

He planted his feet more firmly, even if his face had relaxed. “They can only come out at night? This gift seems to have a pretty big limitation.”

“That’s plenty of time to teach your enemies the meaning of fear," he asserted, firmly.

“The meaning of fear?” He laughed as he pressed his back fully against the tablet to prevent any more tile pushing. “You think you’re a war pharaoh, now?”

Ahkmen’s face screwed. “I will be!”

“And what will I be doing, while you go to war with everyone in sight?”

“You’ll take the army wherever I send it, and carry out my will.” He rolled his eyes, as if the answer were obvious.

The amusement left Kahmun’s face as his brow pulled down. “I’m _not_ about to be your errand boy,” he said through slightly clenched teeth.

If Ahkmen noticed the change in mood, he didn’t acknowledge it. “You serve Egypt, and I am the kingdom- Hey!” He struggled as he was heaved over his brother’s shoulder, and pounded at the leather tunic with his fists. “Put me down!”

“It’s late, and we’re going to bed.” Kahmun pushed the door to the meditation room shut with his foot, and left the tablet and gate behind. “Stop yelling or we’ll both get caught.”

Ahkmen pouted, and did his best to be dead weight as he was carried back and deposited in his room. When he was told in a low, whispered tone to stay put he sniffed and sulked his way off to bed.

With another look to make sure nobody who’d tell on them was around, Kahmun slipped into off to his own chamber. When the door was firmly shut, he let out a heavy breath and slipped the Khepresh off his head.

The idea that he’d never leave the military had crossed his mind more than a few times, certainly now that he’d entered into his second decade of service. It was in no small part helped by the seemingly eternal assertions that the next time he returned it’d be for good, the next time he’d be married and settle into his new role which quite clearly didn’t exist anymore. At some point, he would instead die in the field and his family would mourn the loss of his bow before they moved on. And, if that was the case, he’d held himself back from far too many things to fight for something which would never happen.

He’d thought all of it, in the early morning hours when things were still quiet, but he’d never had it spelled out before that his situation would stay the same even with a change of power.

Ahkmen was still a child, Kahmun reminded himself as he let the leather armor fall to the floor. He didn’t necessarily understand the gravity of his words, or much of anything really, so there wasn’t much good in trying to analyze them. Certainly not when his body ached for rest as it did then.

He settled into bed and wrapped himself in the soft, linen sheets. There was plenty of time to sort it out tomorrow.


	5. 12 (Part 2)

There’d been a banquet like this two decades before, if anything more packed with dignitaries than this one had managed. He’d been 16, then, dressed in the finest garments he’d ever worn and skin oiled and perfumed until it gleamed. He'd felt like he was being set up for a performance, which wasn’t far from the truth since the whole point of the night was to introduce him to a seemingly endless line of daughters about his age.

Each one was pretty in the fashion of the time, with pleasant personalities and well-trained smiles. He was led from one to the next, faces and names blurring until he felt drunk. All the while the only thing he could think was how uncomfortable and, frankly, uninteresting the whole affair was. But, still, he thought he’d done an admirable job of being pleasant and dignified to each one of them. Evidently he either had or hadn’t done enough of something, though, because his father had been upset and spoke to his mother in the sort of whispered fighting that had become common when Kahmun was the topic. 

He was never told what the problem was, exactly, but less than a month later he’d found himself enlisted.

If the stint in the military had been at all meant to improve his decorum around the girls who were now women, it hadn’t worked unless the goal was to prevent it entirely. After so many years of living exclusively with soldiers, his ability to connect to civilians had greatly diminished. The sort of rough humor that bonded him to his men wasn't appreciated among polite company, and far less so even the most censored of his stories (when he was asked what war was like, no less). This aversion seemed to multiply for women to the point he did his best to completely avoid the matter.

As far as he was concerned, that was fine. There was far more life in the impromptu ‘parties’ out in the field, initiated by finding a store of wine (or, more preferably, beer) in a raided town than the stuffiness that took place in something like this. He was just there just to be seen, surrounded by people who were only there to do the same thing even if they wouldn’t admit that. But the wine was good, and the food plentiful, so he didn't think too much of it.

Ahkmen, on the other hand, seemed to have grown more than accustomed to these sorts of affairs. He moved fluidly from one guest to another, between small talk and the few more serious topics they let him touch upon. It was an it was quite a show of professionalism for someone so young, and Kahmun had to admit it was impressive. His brother would certainly grow into a politician.

Ahkmen definitely had tells, though, whether due to youth or just inexperience. Friends of the nation were spoken to warmly, and there was a slight chill added to all others though how many noticed was up for debate.

Kahmun sat up a bit when he saw one group all but passed over entirely and, after thinking better of it, hid any reaction behind a long drink of wine. The snub was again subtle, and with the steady flow of drink and food the dignitaries in question might have even missed it. But there wasn't much doubt that he'd just seen his next target.

He ran over everything he knew of the area, between lands they could expect to gain and troop numbers he'd expect to face. One didn't seem to balance out the other, which probably meant that the coming war was going to be something potentially quite personal that would be covered up as being a major gain for the nation. He tried to figure out how he would spin it for his men, who would see with their own eyes how inequitable the whole situation was. Especially since their leave was potentially about to be cut severely short.

It was almost a formality when an advisor whispered in his ear that he was needed elsewhere. Without a glance to the guests, Kahmun drained his wine and headed towards the meeting hall.


	6. 12 (Part 3)

The entire group had formed an agreement before he’d even arrived, but that didn’t stop the meeting from going late into the night. Men who knew nothing of battle or the enemy argued over approaches and strategies over far too much drink. They wouldn't listen to anyone who had experience, of course, and it would all be disregarded once the ones who'd actually fight were out of range. That didn't keep the whole affair any less teeth-grindingly tedious, though.

That night he waited it out and, as he'd hoped, by the time they were finished the guests had already cleared out. With the servants busy cleaning, and everyone else too drunk or tired to notice, it was nothing to slip off into the night.

Sneaking off to see another soldier was nothing he wasn’t used to out in the field. Living with men, so far removed from anything they’d call civilization for years at a time, things happened routinely that they’d never talk about back home. Having joined up, young and impressionable, he’d been involved in a million treks even if he had never been one to initiate things.

Until a week into his current leave, he'd never thought of doing it back home. It was undeniably different this way, as he headed across town to find the room his driver, Asim, rented. He went without the pretense of lust, stress relief, or the million other things he hid behind. There was nothing left to wait for, only the one person he’d actually wanted to see that day.

As they lay, sated, Kahmun went over the meeting and the campaign that it’d result in. There was no reason to join up for something this unnecessarily dangerous. And, if the near unending stints in the military were about money, he could certainly see to it that it stopped being an issue. It was the first, and he swore it would be the only, time he’d ever begged for anything. For his efforts, he received a dismissive kiss on the forehead.

Asim had stood beside him for years, loyal even among things that were impossible and inevitable, and only now did he say that there was simply no way it could happen. They were both soldiers, and there was nothing left for them if they weren’t out in the field. Kahmun knew that as well as he did, and that neither of them wanted it to be that way didn’t change things.

He didn’t stay long after that, and they didn’t see much of one another until they were again in the service nearly two months ahead of what should have been the minimum break.

They prepared the horses primarily in silence, if anything more unsure of how to start up again than how to keep things hidden from any prying eyes. And if either of them had figured out how to do it, it hadn't nearly been fast enough. As Kahmun knelt down to wrap the horse’s legs, a wine jug tapped at his head.

“You missed breakfast,” Ahkmen said. If anything his tapping became more persistent until the jug was shooed away.

“I wasn’t hungry.” Kahmun nodded to Asim as he took his leave, politely and quickly as he could.

“Since when does that have to do with anything?” he asked. “This was supposed to be a send off.”

“I wasn’t much in the mood for that, either.”

“Well, I am.” He held up the jug. “Come on, one drink and I’ll go.”

“Alright, alright.” Kahmun took the passed cup. “Since when are you so insistent on seeing me off, anyway?”

Ahkmen slid down the wall beside his brother, and elbowed him for good measure. “I always at least tried, you know. Not that you ever made it easy.”

“You never came down to the stable before,” he pointed out.

“Well I’m a man, now,” Ahkmen said, his chest puffed out just a bit. “They can’t keep me locked up like they used to.”

He took the cup when it was filled. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” He replied, pointedly. “Also, this is a special day. I wanted to toast it.” He returned the quizzical look he received. “Didn’t you know?”

“Evidently not.”

“This is my first campaign.” The broad smile he’d put on faltered at the hard look he received.

“What do you mean it’s yours?” Kahmun asked. “You weren’t even at the planning session.”

“I wanted to be,” he insisted. “Father wanted to keep it quiet, since the counsel might have thrown a fit, so I had to stay at the party." Ahkmen sighed, but quickly perked back up. “But I picked the location, and…”

“And us leaving months ahead of schedule? Was that your idea, too?”

“I-I’d figured it’d be best to avoid the harvest.”

“Putting a draft call a month before the harvest isn’t avoiding it.”

He shrunk down as he played with the rim of his cup. “We should have enough laborers to handle the work…”

“That’s not the point," he said, with a tone that only grew firmer.

Ahkmen scowled. “You’re acting like you don’t have enough men to win, and father said that you do! If you just do that, they’ll forget about not being in the fields.” He nodded firmly, if more for himself than his brother. “This will work.”

“I can force it to, but that doesn’t mean…”

“Does so.” After a moment of hesitation, he added, “And I can always back you up, if you need it.”

“I won’t need those things," Kahmun scoffed.

Ahkmen bristled. “They aren’t things!”

“Whatever they are, I don’t need them.” He took a gulp. “I’ve taken on more enemy with less men before.”

“Well, if you’re so confident, why are you fighting this so much?” he asked, exasperated.

“Because I shouldn’t be headed out in the first place!” The horse tossed its head at the outburst. Kahmun stood up to settle it, and collected himself back down to a low tone. “This is too early to ask men to head out, again. And there’s nothing we’re going to gain from this that’s worth the risk we’re going to take getting it. Even if I can win.” He looked back at Ahkmen. “I should have been consulted.”

“That’s not your place to insist on that, though,” he said. “I consulted with Father, so…”

“I am the one making field decisions, not him, and I have more than enough rank to be called in for something like this,” he said, firmly. “And if you’re wanting to bring up people staying in their proper place, then we have _a lot_ more to talk about than one campaign.” When there was no reply, he picked up the leg wrappings again. “I have a lot to get done before we head out. You’d better go back.”

Ahkmen thought over saying something else, but in the end grabbed what he’d come with and stood up. “Don’t die, ok?”

“I’ll do my best.”

When Kahmun turned back from the horse, Ahkmen had already left the stable.


End file.
